


the voice

by vonseal



Series: magic users [12]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Self-Doubt, basically bad thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:09:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: There were those moments, those dark, hideous moments, where Jinwoo felt an intense burst of self-doubt course through his veins.





	the voice

**Author's Note:**

> me: i'm not going to write anymore witchcraft oneshots.  
> also me: nvm

There were those moments, those dark, hideous moments, where Jinwoo felt an intense burst of self-doubt course through his veins.

It came at random. It gave no warnings or notions of its untimely arrival. It struck whenever it so felt the need, and Jinwoo was left to compose himself. Sometimes, during meetings at work, he felt it sneak up and grasp at his heart, pulling and tugging and deafening his ears to the sound of naught but the mantra of, “are you really worth it, Park Jinwoo?”

_Am I worth what?_ he would ask, trying to follow along with Bin's speech, trying to pretend he wasn't at war with himself. _Everyone thinks I'm worth it. Look, Dongmin is speaking to me right now, and I need to know what he's saying-_

And so he tried, unsuccessfully, to silence the self-doubt tearing at his mind, ripping common sense and security and happiness to shreds.

“do they really think you're worth it, Park Jinwoo?”

He wished the voice would be silent. He hadn't heard a single thing Bin was discussing, and Dongmin was now staring at him expectantly.

_Why wouldn't they?_ he asked the voice. _Dongmin helped me secure this position, and Bin gets along just fine with me, too._

That should have been enough to lay the matter to rest, but self-doubt was a tricky bastard, so Jinwoo learned. It stayed. It ruined him some days, causing him to cry alone in the bathroom stalls, forcing him to lie countless times to Minhyuk and Myungjun when he would arrive home later that night.

“but they don't think you're worth it. they like kim myungjun. he's better than you, isn't he, Park Jinwoo?”

_Of course he is,_ Jinwoo admitted, and then he knew he was trapped.

“so it's all for kim myungjun. none of it is for you, Park Jinwoo. if it wasn't for kim myungjun, they wouldn't care whether you lived or died. and isn't death better for a witch like you, Park Jinwoo?”

The voice was familiar, and Jinwoo hated every last second again. He felt as if he was seventeen, as if he was young and stupid and easily impressionable. He felt, more importantly, as if he was just as useless as he was before.

“Jinwoo.”

It wasn't the voice this time. It was someone else, someone _real_ and nearby, a welcome relief to the tiring, nagging feeling at Jinwoo's head, and Jinwoo looked up.

Dongmin stared at him, eyes filled with concern and lips set tightly. “Jinwoo, are you alright?”

Jinwoo blinked once before glancing around. The meeting appeared to be over, though Bin, who should have gone back to _his_ office, was straightening up books that were already straightened. Jinwoo noticed the clear stance and the obvious interest, and he cleared his throat before turning back to Dongmin.

He wouldn't be able to tell Dongmin anything without Bin listening in.

(Not that he would _want_ to tell Dongmin anything.)

“I'm fine,” he murmured.

But, in that second, he remembered Dongmin was a mind-reader, and, too late, he tried to shield his own mind. It took a large amount of energy to counter another user's magic, but Jinwoo had become skilled in the art of hiding his thoughts and feelings at these dark, hideous moments in time.

Now wasn't one of them, however. Dongmin had already caught on.

“Jinwoo, don't-”

“I'm not.” It was another lie, and Jinwoo felt tired.

He could detect a burst of energy try to penetrate his shield, and he glared at Dongmin. “Stop it,” he grumbled. “You've already seen enough, haven't you?”

“And I'd like to get to the root of your issue,” Dongmin replied. “Jinwoo, just let me help you for once, alright? I should think I understand. Out of all people, can't you trust _me?_ ”

Jinwoo gazed warily at Bin, who noticed he had been caught and hurried to straighten something else. “Trusting you also entails trusting Bin, it seems.”

“But I'm not listening in!” Bin announced.

Dongmin waved a hand, as if shooing Bin away, and didn't once remove his stare from Jinwoo. “You need to talk to _someone_ about this, Jinwoo. Does Myungjun know?”

While he had his own barrier up to protect him from Dongmin's intrusive magic, he would lie. Dongmin would be none the wiser – not until later, at least, when Jinwoo could properly hide his thoughts away and pretend things were just fine. “He knows,” Jinwoo assured Dongmin, and then gave a large smile, patting his coworker's back. “We have a case to work on, don't we? Let's do that, and that way Bin can stop eavesdropping and go back-”

“I'm not eavesdropping!” Bin announced.

The day continued as it usually did. The voice lingered in Jinwoo's mind, forcing him to remember past events, forcing him to accept his position in life, forcing him to finally admit to himself that maybe Dongmin and Bin _did_ keep him around simply because Myungjun requested it.

(His barrier slipped once, however, and Dongmin finally got through; the subsequent hugs and assurances and slipped candy weren't enough to keep the self-doubt at bay, but Jinwoo thanked Dongmin, regardless.)

He arrived home late that night. The weariness had spread to his bones. He felt sluggish and exhausted, and the moment he walked through the door, he felt ready to collapse.

But he couldn't do that. Minhyuk was on the couch, flipping through channels on the television, as Sanha sat beside him, hugging one of the pillows and blabbering on about something that appeared to have happened at the bakery, his arms moving animatedly as he spoke. They both glanced at him as he entered the living room, and Sanha beamed.

“Hi, Jinwoo!”

Jinwoo gave a small smile in return, nodding his head in greeting. He reached over to hang up his coat and to set his briefcase aside, and then he noticed the lack of sunshine in his home.

“Where's Myungjun?”

Minhyuk gestured to the door. “He's out shopping right now. We've run out of milk and eggs, and he wanted to pick up some extra things on the way, as well.”

Jinwoo stared at Minhyuk for a few seconds. His eyes never left the television, save for when Sanha poked him; he then looked over with a grin and nudged his boyfriend, who giggled quietly at the movement.

“look at them, Park Jinwoo.” The voice in his head started up again, and Jinwoo tried to busy himself by placing his keys on their designated hook and pushing aside some herbs he had been growing for a potion he wanted to make. “look how happy they are together. and if you weren't there, they would still be happy. they would be just as happy without you, Park Jinwoo.”

_Be that as it may,_ he replied back to the voice, _I'm happy for them, and I wouldn't wish for them to be sad if I left_.

The voice fell silent, and Jinwoo mentally cheered, thinking he had, for once, bested the doubt inside his mind.

“Jinwoo, I cooked some ramen!” Sanha suddenly exclaimed, and he gestured over to the kitchen. “I put yours in a bowl in the fridge. Myungjun said it was the best ramen he had ever eaten in his life, so make sure you try it, alright?”

Jinwoo took that as a sure sign, as solid evidence, that people _cared_ for him.

(And, despite that, why, then, did he still feel a tug at his heart?)

“Definitely, Sanha.”

Sanha grinned, as if pleased, and Jinwoo lingered, poking and prodding at one of Myungjun's tulips. “When is, um...I mean, what time about did Myungjun leave?”

Minhyuk finally glanced at him, and he blinked. “About thirty minutes ago. He'll be back any second. Why? Is everything okay?”

Minhyuk couldn't perform magic, and he had no way of knowing Jinwoo's innermost feelings, but yet he _seemed_ intuitive. He _seemed_ like he knew something, and Jinwoo quickly turned around, back facing Minhyuk, and began fixing one of the other plants. “Yeah. You know how it is, though; I like getting kisses the moment I come home.”

“Want me to fix that for you?” came Sanha's voice, light and high-pitched, and when Jinwoo looked back at him, he laughed loudly, pulling his knees up underneath himself and bouncing slightly on the couch. “I'm kidding! My lips are only meant for Minhyuk!”

Jinwoo wanted to join in with his own laughter. He wanted to feel as close to them as he _normally_ felt, when he didn't have periods of the raging self-doubt, but all he could bring himself to say was, “I guess so,” with a lopsided smile, pretending to be a man not at war with himself.

His lack of enthusiasm didn't go unnoticed, though. Sanha lost his smile, and Minhyuk sat up straighter in his seat. “Jinwoo, are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“Are you sure? Because you just seem a little... _off_.”

Jinwoo stood still for a second before grabbing his coat. “I'm going to wait outside,” he announced suddenly. “I just need a little fresh air. I'm sorry. The case today – you know how they go sometimes. It was just-”

“I was texting Bin, though, and he said you guys just did the paperwork today.”

Jinwoo had thought having so many friends would be great, but he forgot that they intermingled and all spoke together.

“they're only friends with you through various other people, Park Jinwoo,” the voice mocked again, once more giving no indication of its arrival. “park minhyuk is only friends with you because of kim myungjun, and same with both lee dongmin and moon bin. and yoon sanha? he's just there because of park minhyuk. did you really think any of them would actually love a witch, Park Jinwoo?”

He needed the voice to stop hammering into his brain. He needed everything to just fall _silent_ , dead silent, and so he shook his head, trying to dispel all the thoughts raging about. “Look, I'm just going to step outside and wait for Myungjun. I'm fine. I'll _be_ fine. Give me five minutes alone, though, okay?”

Neither Minhyuk nor Sanha responded, but they both stared at him in concern and pity, and Jinwoo escaped in the silence of the moment.

Once outside, he heard the noisy city, a clear difference from the calm inside the apartment. It drowned out the voice, if only for a few seconds.

“and what of kim myungjun?” the voice asked.

_What of him?_

“does he even love you, Park Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo gripped at the railings of the balcony, his knuckles turning white.

_Of course he loves me. He tells me all the time_.

“all the time,” the voice repeated. “exactly. he tells you all the time.”

Jinwoo turned to head down the staircase, taking it slow and steady, inquiring internally _what_ exactly the voice meant by such a statement.

“because you always need constant affirmation of his love, don't you, Park Jinwoo?” It was laughing now; not as innocent as Sanha's laugh, not as boisterous as Bin's laugh, but deep and low and gravely, and Jinwoo paused in his steps. “you're constantly bombarding him, and how is he not sick of you by this point, Park Jinwoo? he treats you kindly because he has no one else, probably. or maybe he pities you. more than likely, he's bored, and you're the only interesting thing in his life, Park Jinwoo. and that's probably only because you're a witch.”

_What the hell does that have to do with anything?_ It felt cold outside, but Jinwoo wasn't going to budge from his position halfway down the staircase. _He tells me all the time he loves me._

“who would ever love a witch, Park Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo swallowed thickly.

“and not only are you a witch, you're clingy. you're needy. why should kim myungjun have to deal with you, Park Jinwoo?”

_I'm not needy_. He wasn't.

“then why are you waiting for him to come back home? why won't you go inside, like park minhyuk and yoon sanha? they're younger and they're not needy like you are, Park Jinwoo.”

He was needy.

He was horribly needy.

He constantly requested Myungjun's love and affection. He felt lonesome when his boyfriend wasn't around; he felt like he wouldn't mind if he could keep Myungjun by his side at all times. When night fell and they curled up in bed, he was always cuddling closer. When times were tough, he broke first, and he always learned into Myungjun for support and comfort.

He _was_ needy. He was too needy, and he finally realized it.

“see?” the voice asked, smug and smart. “you're too needy. kim myungjun must hate you because of that.”

And it was true. Myungjun was probably sick of him at this point. If not for the witch thing, then at _least_ for being too needy.

He felt short of breath. Had he always been so needy? Why didn't Myungjun leave him? Why did Myungjun stay?

Why was he ruining Myungjun's life?

He had to sit down. The voice continued talking, rambling on about his useless existence, and Jinwoo found himself numbly agreeing to each and every word. He let it overtake him, the familiar voice reminding him why he was unworthy of Myungjun's love, and his self-doubt hit him stronger than ever before.

It was strong enough to mask Myungjun's calls; it wasn't strong enough to mask Myungjun's touch.

Jinwoo snapped away from the voice, eyes wide with panic and alarm, as he looked up at Myungjun. When he noted the concern, similar to that of Minhyuk's and Sanha's, he quickly averted his stare, choosing instead to gaze upon the plastic bags by his feet. Myungjun must have just gotten back and set his stuff down. He probably wanted to go inside, but he wouldn't because he was worried.

Jinwoo made him worried. Jinwoo made him upset.

Jinwoo grit his teeth down and kept his gaze away.

“Jinjin?” Myungjun asked, and his voice was soft and countered the self-doubt brewing in Jinwoo's mind. It was a voice filled with love and affection, the sort that Jinwoo had only ever experienced upon meeting Myungjun. No one before had seemed to love him in such a manner. Jinwoo found himself falling, deeper and deeper, but he _needed_ to remember his own shortcomings. He _needed_ to remember that Myungjun didn't deserve someone like him.

“Hey, babe,” Jinwoo choked out.

“Why are you sitting out here?”

It was a good question, and Jinwoo didn't have a good answer. He shrugged his shoulders.

Myungjun pursed his lips before taking a seat next to him. “Then we'll both just sit out here,” he replied, and he gave Jinwoo's knee a pat. “How was work?”

It was that one question that caused Jinwoo's previously set boundaries to come crashing down. He sniffed before burying his face into his hands and trying to keep those tears from spilling out. His breath hitched, regardless, and he felt pathetic.

Myungjun didn't question it, though. Myungjun just leaned over and wrapped his arms around Jinwoo, holding him close and offering soothing whispers, words of love and affection, that Jinwoo _wanted_ to grasp onto – but he couldn't.

“Stop-” Jinwoo murmured. “Myu-Myungjun, stop. I don't need this.”

But he did. His heart begged for him to accept Myungjun's love.

“I don't need this,” he whined, and Myungjun pressed a kiss to his temple. “I don't want to be a bother, Myungjun, please let me go.”

“A bother?” Myungjun drew back slightly and tried to remove Jinwoo's hands from his face. “Let me see you – Jinwoo, stop, let me just-”

He finally succeeded in his quest. Jinwoo's eyes were red with the unshed tears, and already he could feel his nose threatening to run. He knew he looked like a mess, too; a long day at work did wonders to the bags that had formed under his eyes, and his hair wasn't as nicely combed as it had been earlier that day.

So why did Myungjun like him?

“A bother, Jinjin? Really?” Myungjun snorted, and another kiss was delivered, this time to Jinwoo's cheek. “Baby, you're not a bother.”

“I am,” Jinwoo argued. “I'm...I'm too needy, Myungjun. You don't deserve it.”

“You know who's too needy? Park Minhyuk. God, that kid saw we had no milk and he threw a fit because Sanha wanted to make cookies, but Sanha didn't want to make cookies without any milk. So I told Minhyuk to go get it himself, and then he grumbled for a bit and whispered something to Sanha, and then Sanha kicked him and they acted like Minhyuk's leg was sprained.” After the story, Myungjun took a quick breath of air in order to continue talking. “Point is, you're not _nearly_ as needy as Minhyuk is.”

Jinwoo stared at Myungjun. He was beautiful, even when he, too, had a long day at work and was clearly exhausted. He was gorgeous. Jinwoo loved him.

“I'm always trying to get hugs, and...and I always want to cuddle, and I'm waiting for you here-”

“That's love, you dumb moron.” Myungjun leaned in again; he kissed Jinwoo's nose. “I do the exact same thing. And sometimes I worry that I'm being too much, but then you look at me with such warmth and I realize that you love me as much as I love you.”

Jinwoo didn't know if it was possible; he loved Myungjun so much that his chest felt like it would burst whenever he so much as _heard_ Myungjun.

“I don't think you _can_ love me as much as I love you,” he whispered.

“You're not thinking straight, then.” Myungjun giggled and moved as close as he could to Jinwoo, practically in his lap at that point. “Because I _do_. And if you don't believe me, I'll have to show you somehow.”

“Don't do that. I'll be even more of a bother.”

“You know who's _actually_ a bother? Me.” Myungjun kissed Jinwoo again. “But I don't care. Let's be bothersome together, Jinwoo. I say we start with Dongmin first. Let's throw these eggs at his house, alright?”

Somehow, someway, it made Jinwoo feel better to hear Myungjun teasing like that. He smiled, and Myungjun noticed with a quiet squeal. “Ooh, look at my cute boyfriend and his adorable smile! Oh my god, I love you so much, Jinwoo. I just love you with my entire heart.”

The voice inside Jinwoo's head was silent now. It was replaced instead by recollections of Myungjun talking and displaying his love and yelling it out for the neighbors to hear and introducing Jinwoo constantly as, “my super hot boyfriend.”

Jinwoo liked that voice far better, and he returned Myungjun's hug.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “You know how it gets.”

“Yup.” Myungjun ran his fingers through Jinwoo's hair. “Next time it hits you, babe, come find me. I'll fight it off. I'll kill it for making my sweet Jinjin upset.”

Jinwoo hummed in response and closed his eyes, appreciating the feel of Myungjun's warmth.

Sometimes, there were those moments, those dark, hideous moments. They clouded Jinwoo's mind.

And then the sun cleared them away.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hmu with some thoughts and dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)! also follow me there (self promo) bc i do a lot more oneshots on tumblr than i do here. oops.


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